The morning light that filtered through the bedroom curtains was sharper than the previous day, cutting through the dust motes in distinct, geometric beams. I woke up before the alarm, my mind already cataloging the day's obligations. The confirmation email for the Amalfi trip sat in my inbox, a digital anchor point in a week that felt increasingly crowded. I slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Marcus. He was sleeping on his side, facing my side of the bed, one hand tucked under the pillow. The confirmation of the trip had eased something in him too; I could see it in the relaxation of his shoulders.
I went downstairs to the kitchen. The house was quiet, the kind of silence that feels expectant. I started the coffee machine and opened my laptop at the kitchen island. I had three ho
